


His Last Words

by Lululeigh



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Campania Arc, Disputes, F/M, Ship Voyage Arc, infirmary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 06:04:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2762390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lululeigh/pseuds/Lululeigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Darling,<br/>please<br/>kiss me<br/>on my scars <br/>it's been a long<br/>and cold day<br/>of war<br/>and all <br/>I want <br/>is something<br/>warm and soft<br/>against my skin<br/>because healing<br/>is a slow process." <br/>-Nicholas Jones; Hospital Visits</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Last Words

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This year I decided to participate in a fun little event on Tumblr called #TeamGrelliam1216 Project! A group of us Grelliam lovers decided to submit prompts, and then we were each given one and told to create something for it in whatever medium we choose! The prompt that I received was: 
> 
> "Post-Campania Arc confrontation in the Infirmary. Buried feelings? Betrayal? Either way, there's more than a report that's needed." 
> 
> And I decided to write for mine since that's what I do best. I absolutely LOVED working on this and I feel as though it really shows my abilities as a writer. I poured my heart and soul into it XD So yes, enjoy! And go check out the 'teamgrelliam1216' tag on Tumblr to see even more lovely projects that people are doing for their prompts! ^.^

London, 19:00 hours; Grim Reaper Dispatch Association, Infirmary.

It had been a long and quiet day wasting away on a hospital cot, dressed in a standard white gown and covered under scratchy woolen blankets. The ceilings were as plain and boring as infirmary ceilings could be, the walls having that same dull look to them. Smelling the air around her was just as bad as looking at the walls; the fumes of rubbing alcohol, iodoform, and antiseptic filled the air, making her wish that she still lay unconscious. At least when she was in that state there was not any of this horribly looking, terribly smelling, and uncomfortably feeling room. During unconsciousness, Grell could only be aware of the black void that was her mind. 

Not to mention, anything was better than the lecture from that emotionless, cold-hearted, and uptight Supervisor of hers that she was going to be hearing very shortly. Oh how she wished she were still asleep... 

Grell sighed and positioned herself upright in bed, knowing fully well that it was ill-advised. The stitches that had been sewn along her side and across her middle were burning, a searing pain shooting throughout her abdomen as she sat on the cot. Her tangled mess of bright red hair stood out against the stark white scenery of the infirmary, making it seem as if she didn't belong. Indeed, she was completely alone in this place--her cot had curtains to pull around for privacy, but there was no reason to shut them since she was all by herself. However, Grell was aware this state was going to change rather quickly as she felt the impending lecture on its way.

'I might as well take these last few moments of peaceful silence to think up a reasonable explanation,' Grell thought to herself, propping up against the stiff pillow on the bed to help her back. Though truly, what would be acceptable for /him/?

Going back through her memory, the last instant she remembered from the fight with Undertaker was plunging downwards into the icy cold water, the rest of the night flashing by as a wet and cold blur. Both Ronald and her were suffering from serious abdominal wounds, the poor Pup sporting more critical injuries than herself. Even taking into account that they were Grim Reapers, the blows they had been dealt from Undertaker's Death Scythe were like nothing they had ever experienced before. As well, she couldn't forget about Sebastian getting in the way, the devil and his meal going and sticking their noses into the Reaper realms business. She would find that demon and give him a lesson or two about messing with her Junior-- no one harmed her co-workers whom she considered close friends. 

Seeing as though the boy was going to need a longer time to recuperate, he had been placed in the South Wing of the infirmary to give him the private space he needed to heal. A gash across his abdomen, several hits to his head, and severe blood loss meant Ronnie was in much worse shape than she-- this encounter had been his first real fight against any other supernatural being, making him less experienced in combat. However, Grell knew that he would heal up just fine, most Reapers did after all, they just required a little down time to let their bodies healing process do its work. Hopefully he would not be bothered to help speed up the recovery. 

On the other hand, her body would not be so fortunate. Even though William would probably leave Ronald alone to get better, she knew that she would not be able to escape from his questioning. This was now the second time he had gone to retrieve her, arriving at the scene once again to find out that she was severely wounded and had not completed her job. The punishment for such "reckless conduct" would pale in comparison to that of the Jack the Ripper incident. What would he have her do now? Clean every corner of the Dispatch? Reorganize all the Cinematic Records? Grell could only imagine the labor the slave driver had up his sleeves.

'He could at least give me the time to heal, the heartless bastard. Letting a lady be subjected to such difficult questioning right after the incident has to be a crime of some sort,' Grell sighed, aware that any minute now he was going to walk through that door and begin his interrogation. Didn't he have more important matters to take care of? Of course not-- the details on how Grell Sutcliff had inconvenienced him always held priority.

'I bet he gets a real pleasure out of it..'

"Dispatcher Sutcliff," he spoke in his cold, uninviting tone, approaching her cot at his regular pace. She hadn't noticed he had come in, and sooner than she would have wished, he was there hovering beside her, observing with that icy gaze of his. William spoke not a word more, willing to stand there all night until she replied.

"I do have a name you know, and you could at least be considerate. An injury from a Death Scythe like that could have wounded us a lot worse." Grell huffed, not in the mood for this scolding. The last thing she wanted to be nagged about now was that she had failed to do her job proper, again. Didn't he have an ounce of sympathy for her in his body? Of course not-- this was William T. Spears after all, the coldest and cruelest Reaper alive. No one could manage to scratch or even put a dent in his ego, and it bothered her. How could someone be so inhospitable all the time? 

Grell would use every bit of strength to break that facade of his, even if it nearly killed her. She knew there were emotions down there somewhere-- she had witnessed them before on that magical day so many years ago. Just where had they gone, and how difficult would it be to bring them back? Why was he hiding? 

"You failed to complete your given task again. Unacceptable. Do you realize how much paper work you create? All of my time you waste? Honestly... Just how many disasters must you cause before you learn your lesson?" William spoke in his dull tone, not missing a beat as he read from his notes on his clipboard. He adjusted his glasses as he finished, sighing in the most displeased manner. The Supervisor could not fathom why it was so difficult to complete such an uncomplicated assignment-- go in, judge the cinematic records, collect the souls, and leave. However, if Grell Sutcliff was involved, she would consistently find ways to screw up matters, and that had been proven multiple times now. This instance, William refused to let her off easy. 

"Do you not understand the circumstances we were in?! The enemy we had before us?! That was the legendary Grim Reaper out there! How were we supposed to know that?!"

"If you had not involved yourselves and just done your job, you would have made it out absolutely fine."

"You really think we could have avoided them?! The bloody demon was on the ship! They would have-"

"As I already said," he spoke solemnly, not a trace of pity for her in his voice, "If you had stuck to th-"

"Ronald's still unconscious William! Are you not aware that this was his fi-"

"-First time participating in a fight of this scale? Indeed I am. Everyone must go through it at some point. How else are they supposed to learn? I wouldn't have assigned him to the job of clean up if I didn't think he couldn't handle a little confrontation. Besides, he's-"

"Besides what?! You don't need to tell me what state of condition he's in William. I was there. I /know/ what happened, and I sure as hell don't need /you/ to give me the details!"

"I highly advise you not to cut me off Sutcliff. You're walking on incredibly thin ice now." His glare was intense, so sharp that it could cut through a soul.

"And if I do?" She retorted back, hostility in her voice. Grell looked back with the same hateful stare, willing to push him until he reached his limit. The redhead was furious now, her blood boiling with utter anger.

"Sutcliff, I highly suggest you not press me ton-"

"It's /Grell/," she hissed, pulling the blanket off of her, "/Grell Sutcliff/. That is my name. Not Sutcliff, not Dispatcher, and certainly not 'You Pathetic Excuse For A Grim Reaper'. Do you know why I'm angry William?" She turned so that her legs were dangling over the side of the cot, even though movement was not advised this early. "I'm angry because after everything I've been through, after all the misery that I have suffered because of you, I have had enough. This abuse," she pointed a finger at him, right at the center of his chest, "And cruelty, and not to mention mistreatment, has pushed me past my limit. What happened to caring about me?!" She shouted, her voice echoing around the what was once a quiet room. "Why does everyone else get all the pity?! Every time another worker gets injured on duty, you leave them be for at least a day to let them recover. But what happens when little Miss Sutcliff gets hurt?!" Grell rose from the bed then, standing on her feet for the first time in hours, holding onto the pole for the IV to steady herself. Although feeling a bit wobbly, she managed to keep herself upright, hoping this energy of hers would last until her outburst was over.

"Stop this nonsense. You're getting out of control."

"I know what happens when I get hurt. 'Sutcliff, you sorry excuse for a Reaper. Causing me extra paper work, wasting my precious time. Why can't you be more responsible?' Well I'm sorry if I'm not responsible enough for you William darling~ Rules and regulations never really were my style!

"Enough. Sit back down before you hurt yourself more." 

"What would be the point of that?! You wouldn't care anyways." Grell took a step forward, standing on her tiptoes so that she could be as close to his eye level as possible. "If you really did care about me, you wou-" She hadn't realized it, but as she had moved around and taken a step forward, her IV had come lose, cutting off the supply of drugs that were helping to keep her systems in check. Her world was slowly fading black, a red patch noticeable on her gown. Grell's hasty movements had caused her stitches to come undone, a steady flow of blood gushing from her abdomen. Her legs went limp, her now cold body falling against his as the room around her slowly escaped her vision, once again surrounding her in darkness. 

"Sutcliff?! We need a nurse! Quickly!"

Grell could have sworn the last noise she heard was William calling out her first name.

\---

One minute. Two minutes. Five minutes. Twenty minutes. An /hour/. Grell still lay unconscious as it neared the two hour mark, William's foot tapping impatiently on the floor as he sat in a hospital chair beside her cot. Certainly it should not take this long to wake up. Had they given her too much anesthetic? Too little? Was she still alive? Of course she was, that was a question full of nonsense. Her bedside monitor continued to beep steadily, indicating that she was indeed still with him. At least he had that bit of comfort to reassure him.

The accident had occurred so quickly that now it was just a mere splash of red color in his memory. Before he even had the time to process all that was happening in the moment, the nurses were there with them, carefully laying Grell down on the bed. They had decided to stitch her up again right there on the spot, hesitant over the fact that she would lose too much blood on the way to the operating room. In a matter of minutes she was closed up again, her IV placed in her hand and filled with new fluids, of which consisted of mostly pain killers. The ladies had informed him that it may be quite sometime before she awoke, and to be prepared if she acted a little out of place because of all the drugs in her system.

After that, the nurses disappeared, leaving not a trace that they had ever been there. All the blood had been cleaned up and the operating equipment put away, leaving the scene to be a standing William beside an unconscious Grell laying in her bed. He chose then to pull up a chair, feeling it only right to stay until she at least woke up, just so he could explain what had happened. Besides, considering that the reason her wound had reopened in the first place was him, he felt it is his responsibility to sit here with her.

The minutes ticked by, the only sounds in the room being the clock on the wall and the beeping of the monitor, his breathing barely noticeable so that it would not disturb her. A part of him felt quite guilty that this had happened, yet his work facade assured him that it was just part of the job. If only she hadn't of moved-- but that was his fault. If only she could have been left in peace to rest-- yet he was the one who had disturbed that. If only he had been there on that mission with her, yes, perhaps that was the solution to everything. Maybe Grell was right, this mindset of his was the problem.

William sighed, shaking his head as he rested his hand on the empty space beside her. Compared to how lively and passionate she usually was, dressed up in her fiery red clothing and showing her flamboyant attitude, this was quite the contrast, seeing her lay still all dressed in white and not making a sound. This image of her was quite unsettling, and as he looked at Grell, he felt as though a big piece of his life was briefly absent. ..Could it be? No, such nonsense that was, thinking that the absence of the usual redhead was the missing piece.

However, that opinion changed very fast, for before he could finish his thought, her fingers twitched, eyelids fluttering open for the briefest of moments. The redhead stirred very slowly, obviously heavily influenced from the pain killers, though they did not stop her from trying to move. She turned her head to the side, her eyes widening as she realized her Supervisor was still there with her. William did his best to stay composed, he was still on duty after all, but he couldn't stop his lips from twitching upwards into the smallest of smiles for the quickest second as she looked into his eyes. Maybe she was his missin-

"You probably want to hear-" 

"-Silence from you now," William interjected, speaking in his soft and gentle tone that was so rare to hear. He sat quietly at her bedside, the icy fire in his eyes now extinguished, at least for the moment. 

"Mhm.." she complied, taking that tender gaze of his in for just a minute longer before allowing her eyes to slip close. Grell could not evade sleep for long, as much as she would have loved to continue talking to him. The pain medication the nurses had administered were taking effect in her system again all too soon, making her drowsy in ways she never knew were possible, though doing their job in blocking out the pain from her side and head. How foolish she was for even considering movement to begin with-- but what's done was done, and there was no point regretting actions that could not be taken back.

"William.. Thank you... Thank you for being here..." She whispered softly, hoping he had been able to hear her.

The stoic Reaper sat in his chair for a few moments, unsure of what to say as a reply. By the time he had finally thought of something, however, she was already asleep again, finally surrendering to the influence of the drugs.

The next action to happen was one of those rare moments, one a Reaper would only ever catch if they were extremely lucky, and in the right place at the right time. Why? For the next thing William did was run a gentle hand over her hair, letting it rest on her stomach to draw soothing little circles there. It was indeed a moment of supreme rarity as he leaned in close, planting a soft but compassionate kiss on her forehead, whispering words that could only be heard between the two of them.

Grell was certain the last noise she heard this time was William whispering her name, the other words he spoke leaving tiny butterflies in her stomach.


End file.
